September 25, 2011

Reflection in the Mirror

[...Posted by Ted H]

Eat your fucking heart out, Cornwell.

Man, job huntings a bitch...anyway...

This is likely the most fact checking I've ever done before...and most of it was done long before I even wrote this.
Gonna crack open the way-back archives next week. Time we got another play up in this bitch...
MLB playoffs starting soon, so I might not be able to get anything new out...


[Reflection in the Mirror]

It was late when he had arrived. She wasn’t at her usual spot on the street corner waiting for him. She must have grown tired and went home, figured William wouldn’t show. The voice in his head screaming to kill every step of the way there. He couldn’t go to his wife about this. She had been suspicious of him for over a month. There was only one other person in the world he could trust right now. A woman he loved. They both held a bond between them that neither would bring to light with William’s marriage and her profession.

When he finally reached her house he noticed the lights were all out but he felt that she was awake. The was a restlessness within her which resonated. While her body was too tired to wait any longer, her soul could not help but worry what had happened to him. He gently tapped on the window and within moments there she was. The look of relief on her face was enough to drive away Jack from speaking within his own mind.

Jack. The voice had grown so powerful in him over time that it even took the liberty of naming itself. This is how insane the situation had become. There was only one way to get rid of Jack. Hell, Jack himself told him how to become free of him, but William couldn’t bring himself to it. He couldn’t force himself to take that action.

Mary Jeanette motioned William to the front door where she would let him in. When she did, the two embraced each other like it had been years since they last had met rather than hours. “I had wondered where you were.” she said as she silently let him into her room so they wouldn’t disturb the other residents.

Once in the better lighting of her room, Mary Jeanette immediately noticed William’s stressed state. “You look horrible. Is anything the matter? Did something happen to you on the way over?”

“I-I’m fine.” William managed to say “I’m just very tired.”

Tired of Jack to be exact, but he managed to keep silent of that as to not worry Mary. “Well, go wash up. You’re spending the night here. I fear you may collapse and I won’t allow you to leave in such a state.” she said as she turned and walked towards her bed. “I’ll be waiting right here.” she said with a smirk as she sat down on her bed.

William stumbled into the bathroom and stared himself down in the mirror. “Should I sing you a song? To help you calm?” Mary called. William barely heard her as he continued to stare until his reflection took its own life, blinked and started laughing. “She was right.” his reflection said “You look downright like shit.” No longer waiting for an answer, Mary began singing anyway. William ignored her as he concentrated on the mirror.

“Go away, Jack.” he said plainly.

“You know how to make me.”

“You can not make me choose.”

“I was born of your own dilemma. You created me to help you over come all this.”

“Not like this.”

“If there was another way, don’t you think we would’ve tried it?”

“You never tried anything. Right to killing you went.”

“And look how immediately you started getting better.”

“You still came back!”

“Because killing those women were only short term solutions, a mere bandage over a cancer.”

“You’re the cancer.”

“And your delusional.”

“Stop it! You enjoyed killing those girls too much.”

“I can’t help who I am no more than you can help who you are.”

“That is different.”

“No. It isn’t. You’re inability to choose between your own wife and your need for these women are what brought me about.”

“But the liver? How does consuming someone‘s liver help me?”

“Hahaha. I do have a bit of a sweet tooth, don’t I?”

“Stop! This ends tonight!”

“Quiet, or the whore will hear you.”

“Do not speak of her with such a term!”

“Oh? Than what is she? A ‘seamstress‘? Don’t make me laugh.”

“Regardless, this will end tonight.”

“You’re right.”


“I don’t plan on wasting my time anymore. I know how to cure you and end this.”

“You said that at the beginning, and every time before you killed.”

“This time is different.”


“You’ve been visiting this particular whore far too much.”


“Don’t take me for a fool, William. I know you’ve been hiding her from me. Of all the whores, this one means something special to you. Dare I use the L word to describe your feelings?”

“You’ve lost your mind.”

“Said the man arguing with a mirror.”

“You lay one finger on either-”

“That finger would only be your own, William. How delusional have you become?”

“I’m the sane one here.”

“Fool. We’re the same fucking person. But the sane part of you allowed me to manifest. The part of you that decided this charade needs to end and so here I am to save you. To decide how to save you and take the appropriate actions. Be it murder, then fine. Whatever it takes to save our own mind.”

“Save our mind?”

“You need to decide. I wanted to off the wife, day one. You said no, and up until now she was the only one you actually fought me over killing, while you willingly allowed me to paint London red with everyone else I so chose. Now here we are in another whores house and you honest to God have a problem with murdering again.”

“We…we might get caught.”

“We’re in her fucking home, out of view from the streets. Fuck, William, this is the least conspicuous we’ve been to date. It’s about the whore. All the other whores you’ve dusted yourself off afterwards and filled the void. But this one! This one can not be replaced. I can feel it in your heart you sap. She dies, or the wife dies, and all this ends.


“You keep telling me there’s only room for one of us in your brain, well now I say there’s only room for one woman in your heart. Have you made your choice?”

“I…I can’t. I love them both.”

“I’ve been on your side since the beginning, William. Despite the things you’ve said, my only concern is to help you. I’ve confirmed that you’re moral qualm is not faithfulness to your wife over these other women, but just the one in particular.”

“Mary? Is this why you’re making me choose? I finally settle on one, I’ll be cured?”

“Not exactly. I play for keeps, remember?”


William inadvertently reached into his pocket and pulled out his knife. He looked back into the mirror and Jack was smiling from ear to ear.

“No. You c-can’t. Kill a woman I love? I’ll never let you.”

“We both knew it’s the only way. Now I’ll ask once again. Have you made your choice?”

“Not you…”

“William, please.” Jack said in an exacerbated tone. “Not. You.” William repeated. “Let me do it.” Jack had a look of surprise on his face. “I thought you could never imagine yourself a murderer?” he asked. Tears rolled down William’s face. “You aren’t worthy to kill her.”

“So who will you kill?” Jack asked “The wife, or the whore?”

“Leave me be for this.”

“So you’ll actually do it, or will you pussy out like with Ada?”

“Just…leave me be…”

William sat and wept for a few moments longer. Mary Jeanette had since ceased singing and laid in bed almost asleep when William finally returned. “What took you so-” she began when she noticed the stern look on William’s face, illuminated by the small bit of moonlight reflecting off his knife. “William?” she asked. “I’m sorry.” William said as he reached to hold her down.

Frantically, Mary thrashed about and screamed “Murder!” but William quickly forced her back down and slit her throat. As he held the dying body down and cradled the head, her life slowly slipping away, William looked towards the ceiling and asked “Are you happy?”

No response.

“Was that not good enough? You think I‘m pussying out again? Fuck you!” William screamed as he stood up over Mary Jane’s body, ripped the nightgown open and started dissecting and ripping her body apart. He took out organs and slashed at her face until he was digging into bone. He slashed off slabs of flesh and tossed them about. He destroyed the body in such a way that the previous murders, in which Jack would take over William’s body to commit, would pale in comparison.

When he was finally finished, William left Mary’s body in such a grotesque state, that it didn’t even resemble her. The image burned into Williams mind in such a way that he no longer remembered what she looked like in life. The memories were fading as were the feelings, scarred and replaced by the sight in the bed.


Back at his home, William sat in front of his fireplace as the morning sunlight crept in through the nearby window. He didn’t sleep. He could never imagine sleeping again. “Well?” Jack’s voice echoed either through the room or in William’s head, didn’t matter to him.

“Well what?”

“It’s almost over, no?”

“What do you mean ‘almost’? I made my choice and…and I killed her.”

“But you haven’t let go.”

William looked down to his hands, which were cradling Mary’s heart. After everything he had done to her that night, he decided to take the heart with him when he left. “She had given it to me while alive…I felt it fitting I should hold onto it in death…” William said while fighting back tears. Jack remained silent. “It hurts, Jack…I don’t even remember her face…barely recall how it felt to hold her, but it still hurts.”

William felt a slight warm sensation on his shoulder as if someone was holding it as he heard Jack’s voice again. "I promise it won't hurt anymore once you let her go, her heart most of all..."

Reluctantly, William rose, and let Mary Jane Kelly’s heart fall into the fire. He no longer heard Jack’s voice or felt his presence. William then walked away to wash his hands of the blood, and as he washed, the pain slowly subsided, until there was nothing left to clean.

When he finished, William turned to see his wife enter the room. “William? Are you alright? Is something the matter?” she asked after fighting off a yawn. “No.” William said as he walked over and held his wife. “Everything’s fine.”

September 14, 2011

Safe Haven - The Chase pt.2

[...Posted by Ted H]

Mad props to Will whos been doing ALL the posting for the past couple weeks, allowing me to be a lazy SOB. Busy busy busy for me but here I am, posting yet anohter installment to the SH storyline. Gonna wrap the chase sequences up next time, then Ill finally get to the zombies in my zombie apocalypse. Maybe I need to post a prequal story or somethin...
Gotta steal LotD back cuz my brother stole it back after I stole it the first time, so the review might be on hold for a bit. Got part 2 of the review almost done though...

Next week? See you there...

[Safe Haven - The Chase pt.2]

Cayra was never a big fan of Rogues, but after what just happened, she might reconsider her position. She concealed the gun she received as best she could and sprinted down to the other end of the alley, the opposite direction of all the action. She was a long way from home and didn’t want to get caught by any other ResEs, let alone be caught with a gun.

Sticking to the shadows as best she could she made her way to the outskirts, too close to the walls for anyone to want to live and for any ResEs to patrol near. The plan was to circle back around to more familiar territory before trying to sneak back into the more populated (and patrolled) areas. No doubt most ResEs were rushing to try and catch the Rogue, but odds were there were a few that remained where they belonged, just waiting for someone to break curfew.

Despite confidence in her plan, Cayra couldn’t help but feel like she was still being followed. After getting caught earlier, she made sure to be double sure the coast was clear before risking herself out in the open but still she felt like a ResE was near. She kept stopping and checking everywhere behind her but saw no sign of pursuit. Still though, she felt something more than paranoia as she slowly made her way where she needed to be.

Enough time had passed to where the Rogue was either caught or he got away, meaning the ResEs would soon be back where they all should be. Cayra’s trip was almost over though. It took her long enough, but she was where she needed to be to risk walking through a populated zone to get home. Her paranoia chimed in again and she quickly glanced over her shoulder. This time she saw something, someone quickly shifting themselves behind cover. It was definitely a ResE.

The ResE had been following her, for how long she didn’t know, but it didn’t really matter. She had two choices: she could pretend she didn’t notice him and sneak home. She might lose him along the way but it also contained the risk that she could lead him right to where she lived, granting her no escape if the ResE barged in. Her other option was to run away now, not home but somewhere where she can shake her pursuer. The problem with that was she had little faith she could successfully outrun the man. Either way she was out of luck, and if sneaking around so far yielded no such luck, she might as well just run for it.

Cayra checked behind herself again to make sure the ResE was still hiding from sight before she took off in full sprint. She heard the man swear before the sound of footsteps following. Outrunning him was not an option but maybe she could lose him in one of the abandoned buildings. Her only shot lied with the hope that ResEs don’t have much experience in navigating abandoned structures.

She ducked into a building and ran through a back hallway and back outside. She had been through these buildings before, too long ago to remember exactly the layouts of every building but recent enough to know a certain pair of buildings had an adjoining basement. Sadly, that was her best shot at escaping.

The ResE was closing in fast, but Cayra had reached her destination as she threw open a broken glass door and sprinted down the hallway to where the basement access was. Heavy boots onto warped hardwood flooring announced the pursuer as Cayra opened the door and went down the stairs. The basement door could lock and it was obvious this was a basement, so Cayra hoped the ResE would give up the chase and just close and lock the door, not knowing about the alternate exit. Boots barreling down the stairs dashed those hopes though. This guy was either too stupid or too determined to simply try and trap her.

No matter, Cayra still had plan A, and the scattered debris in the basement allowed her to conceal herself as she crossed to the other side. By time the ResE knew where she was, Cayra was already heading up the other staircase. “Get back here!” he fruitlessly shouted as Cayra reached the top. She decided to lock the door and force the ResE to cross back over to escape, which would give Cayra plenty of time to hide in another building. She figured it was a good plan as she turned the knob to exit the basement but the door remained closed.

“No!” Cayra said aloud as she tried forcing her weight into the door but it refused to budge. “Oh my God,” she screamed as panic set in. The door wasn’t opening, and Cayra spun around to see the ResE laughing at the bottom of the stairs. “End of the line,” he said as he casually walked up the staircase. “Please,” Cayra pleaded, which only caused the ResE to laugh more.

Cayra wasn’t getting a Rogue to save her this time, but she still had the gun he gave her. She pulled it out and quickly fired without aiming. The ResE easily shifted and ducked away from the shot but lost his balance on the stairs and tumbled down. For a moment Cayra didn’t move. The ResE wasn’t dead, but he remained on the ground as he groaned in pain. She made her way down the stairs as the ResE reached for his radio. “You came alone,” Cayra announced as she pointed her gun at the man. “Please…” the ResE said, filling Cayra with rage. He was expecting Cayra to show him mercy? After what he and his friends were heartlessly going to do to her?

Cayra kicked the radio away from the ResE before she shot him in the throat. This man was going to die slowly and alone, like the animal he was.

September 4, 2011

Clean Up on Aisle 10

I'm going to do something a bit unprecedented for me and start with a P.S. so here goes... I wrote this story three years ago today. It was a creative writing assignment and the following transpired from what we were given to write about which was Aisle 10 of a supermarket. This is that story. An oldie but a goodie, so without any further delay, enjoy.


“Will, Clean up on Aisle 10.” the voice crackled again. “You have got to be kidding me.” I mumbled to myself. I never understood how people could come in and mess up the store so many friggin’ times a day! I just don’t understand it, I really don’t. God, I hate people. Were people brought up in a barn? Honestly! OK, now I understand accidents happen, shit happens, you know? But they can’t possibly happen more then twelve times a day and in the same place! It’s unheard of. But no, they can and they do, at least here they do.

I sighed heavily as I walked slowly to the back of the store, to go to the mess closet to grab a mop and bucket. I hate these walks. The slow, agonizingly, painful walks. It seems like a life time walking to the back of the store, especially when you have the customers stare at you with their dead fish eyed glances. It’s a walk of shame, of degradation. I hate people, how they’re always staring at you, judging you, thinking that they’re better than you. Having your name called out to go clean up someone else’s mess is absolutely humiliating! Oh, and the boss loved calling me out, he friggin’ hates me, I know it. My boss is an Asshole, with a capital A! I don’t know why really, but he just gets a kick out of humiliating his workers. He treats us like indentured servants and everyone else who works here knows it.

I don’t know when the man lost his Soul; he’s just a jerk I guess. Part of me, admires him I guess, he doesn’t take shit from anyone, I guess that’s admirable. But then again, what the hell do I know. I’m twenty years old and still working at the Pic’ n’ Save and I’m attending community college. He attended community College; he worked here, now he’s the store manager. Maybe I hate him because I know that I’m probably going to end up just like him. Hell, I’m already half way there, I am jaded enough, but I guess it’s my fault. It’s what I get for working for my father… yeah… I work for my father, God, how I hate him.

My father is a fat greedy slob, with his hair greased over his balding spot on his head. He really has the worst comb over ever! But, he is greedy though, God, I tell you, he actually filed lawsuits against the beggars and homeless who look for handouts in front of the store as well as those who steal the grocery carts, because they put their only possessions in them, as well as collect cans on the side of the road to try to earn very little money for a tedious amount of work. They’re literally making change and my Father calls the police. He always told me, “It’s for their own good son, they need to wake up and realize that nothing can be handed to you, you have to earn it! They should clean themselves up and get jobs and earn an honest living! I’m performing a civil service to the hard working upper class, who want to purchase food, they deserve it! They’ve earned he right, because they have jobs.” How pompous! But if I argued he would only make me work harder in the store. Such as Aisle clean up.

I finally arrived to the mess room and filled the bucket and rinsed the mop. I slowly walked to Aisle 10, the canned foods Aisle. I despise that Aisle, the disgusting smells of spilled formaldehyde. That’s what it smelled like to me. Every time I get to the aisle I swear I want to vomit. I try to cover my nose in a sad attempt to avoid the horrid stench of spilled food over and over again. The smells just pile up during the day, largely due to the fact that the floors only get waxed at night. Which the poor old Janitor, Jerry, has to do every night. My dad the wonderful man that he is, never gives Jerry the night off, and I think Jerry has been working longer than my dad has! It’s sad he’s eighty something and can’t retire. I mean what could he possibly retire on. It’s not like my dad pays him a whole hell of a lot!

I make my way down to the aisle and try to avoid as many fish eyed stares as possible. The looks of disgust on their faces, like this what I deserve to be doing, like this is my lot in life, like I some how chose this dead end job. I didn’t have a choice! My father never gave me an allowance or any money of my own, growing up. If I ever asked him for anything, I always, always, got the same response. “Get a Job!” He’d tell me. “Get a Job.” I was four and wanted a tricycle like the rest of the normal kids in the neighbor hood. They were lucky. People will never understand how lucky they are. The way they look down at the beggars as they walk past them when they enter the store, like they’re diseased or something, like they have leprosy. Or the way they look down at the workers, such as myself. Hell, even Jerry, the Janitor.

I always admired that old man; he is still kind and gentile to people, even though they treat him so crudely. People are Philistines! Perhaps that’s the reason I hate people so much. They’re rude and selfish. Such as the people who live in my apartment building, blaring their terrible music at all hours of the night, throwing loud parties. So I complain, and I’m the bad guy! Maybe that’s why they never invite me over, or the fact I love to slam the door on the way to work every morning. God, I hope that wakes them up! It’s what people like that deserve. People just have it so good I guess they don’t understand how lucky they have it.

I made it down Aisle ten, where there was a smashed jar of pickled pigs feet on the ground. The stench was horrendous! “Pigs feet, again.” I mumbled. I looked up and down the aisle to see if there was anyone there that may have done it. Alas, it was desolate. Truthfully it was probably someone’s baby brat throwing a temper tantrum. I love how kids get off completely for misbehaving, it never mattered how old I was, and I always had to behave respectably in public. How I resent parents who can’t teach their kids proper manners. Maybe it’s because the parents themselves are spoiled as well. Perhaps it’s because it’s not their store, and they know some one else will just clean up their mess for them, such as myself, just like I am now. It’s depressing to think about. I looked down at the pickled pigs feet and it reminded me of the fetal pigs we had to dissect in tenth grade biology. It made me want to vomit, the smell, the look, and the texture it was revolting, all cold and clammy!

As I picked up someone else’s mess I caught something out of the corner of my eye. I bright red piece of paper had been brushed under one of the shelves. I had almost missed it. As I bent over and picked up the paper, I immediately recognized what I had picked up. It was a lottery ticket! Some one had dropped it; they must have purchased it at the front of the store. It was a scratch off, which had already been scratched off, Trash, I thought, but no. It was a miracle in the form of paper. It was a winner! It was worth, ten million dollars! I couldn’t believe it! I screamed out loud and jumped for joy! It startled every one who was in the store; it was so loud I swore it shook the rafters! I walked up proudly to the counter where I could redeem the winnings, which my father ran personally and as I walked up to the counter, he looked at me puzzled and asked gruffly, “What do you want?” I looked at him with a sly grin and handed him the paper and said boldly, “My last paycheck, ‘cause I quit!”

By now I’m sure anyone would have taken the cash and blew it all on fancy merchandise but not me, to stick it to my father as a personal touch I bought the vacant property across the street from the Pic’ n Save and I opened up a soup kitchen for the homeless and I work with meals on wheels to help those unfortunate souls who couldn’t afford to buy groceries, from the rich mans store, the evil Pick n’ Save! Not only that, but I pay one of my workers here, my new Janitor, Jerry. And you know what, we have never been happier. So I suppose it will be daddy dearest who will be waxing the floors from now on! I suppose I owe him, and Pic’ n’ Save, but really I owe it all to Aisle ten! So, Thank you, Aisle ten!